Chapter Twenty Seven

Monday 14 September 1998

Draco

I notice two things when I wake up. The first is that I'm heartbreakingly alone, except for you, that is. The second is that, for the first time in months, I'm not in pain.

Because we found him!

We found him.

"Draco? Are you up?" It's Blaise. I murmur a sound of affirmation. "Good, because there's someone here to see you..."

Harry!

I immediately perk up, Harry, Harry, Harry, echoing through my head. I throw on some clothes - no, you can't wear that; we need to look nice! Our mate is out there! - right, right. Forgot, was hurrying. I throw on some nicer clothes, stopping to smooth down my hair and de-ruffle my wings, before throwing open the curtains around my bed. I barely notice my roommates before I'm physically flying out of the door.

I barrel straight into him - him, Harry, my mate, my dom - and yelp. He doesn't fall over, though, just catches me in his arms as I swoon into them. He smells so good, I can't get over it.

His laugh is a rich chuckle in my ear as he whispers, "Why, hello, beautiful." beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! "You ready for some breakfast?" I nod into the crook of his neck. "You going to let me see your face?" I shake my head. I'm practically a tomato. Who wants to be mated to that? "Why not, mate mine?"

Is he frowning? He sounds like he's frowning. Lift up your head, Draco!

I do, and immediately meet his eyes. I don't think it will ever not surprise me how green they are.

"There you go, good boy. So beautiful, look at you, mate mine." I thought I swooned before. That was nothing.

I quite literally collapse against him, so much so he has to stagger to keep me upright. I feel his arms flex as he grips my hips, before they move to pull my thighs up so they wrap around his waist. He grins up at me, and my heart grows wings bigger than mine, bursts out of my chest, and flies out the window.

"Compliments and tiredness might be a bit much, huh?" I nod, flushing, trying to ignore your almost painfully loud squeals of delight that echo around my head. He leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. "I'd rather catch you a million times," he whispers, "than stop, mate mine." My whole body quivers, both at his words and at the light kiss he presses against the skin just under my ear. "Let's go downstairs, beautiful."

He carries me all the way to the Great Hall without even getting winded, making you babble about how strong and amazing he is, so fast I can't even distinguish individual words.

"I'm going to take you to the Gryffindor table, okay?" Oh. Oh, no. No, they're going to kill me!

Don't be silly, Harry wouldn't let them do that.

And ruin his friendship with his friends? I can't do that!

"Talk to me, Draco. Is that okay?"

"I'm scared," it comes out quieter than I intended, barely a whisper.

"Oh, mate mine, it's okay. I know, but you're okay. I'm here."

"I-I know."

"I'm here, and I've got you."

"I know."

"And I won't let anyone or anything hurt you ever again."

"I kn-know."

"So will you come to eat with me?"

"I... I don't want your friends to be mad at you if you defend me." I watch as whatever hardness in his gaze melts down to liquid adoration.

"Draco, you're my mate," he says, voice quiet but firm. "You are a part of me, the most important part of me. If they don't want you, they don't get me either, okay?" I have to bury my face in the crook of his neck again to stop myself from crying. No one has ever said anything like that to me, about me. "You okay, Draco?" I whimper into his skin. He slowly lowers me down until I'm standing again. He lifts my face with two fingers under my chin, cups my cheek and runs his thumb over my skin, before pressing a light kiss to my lips. "Come on." He takes my hand, leading me into the hall and towards the Gryffindor table where his friends sit, minus Neville who's with Blaise.

"No. No, Harry, come on, man!" It's Weasley, of course it is, he hates me. I duck my head as Harry growls at him, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist.

"Ron..." Granger starts.

"No, Hermione! That's Malfoy, we hate him, remember? Why can't people remember that?"

They hate us?

I told you. I told you dozens of times. I knew that. So why does it still hurt?

He said 'we' not 'I', he said 'we hate him'. Harry doesn't hate us, does he?

No, no, he wouldn't... he can't... he said, outside-

"Are you aware," Harry says, in a disturbingly calm voice, "that I could legally murder you for saying that?"

There's a pause. Weasley suddenly looks nervous, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh, yeah, but you wouldn't, right?" Harry shrugs.

"Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you can get away with insulting my mate. Are we clear?"

I can't help but grin. He doesn't hate me, of course he doesn't, I know that, I was being stupid, but Merlin it feels good to have it reaffirmed. To have my mate stand up for me.

"Clear, yeah, very, crystal, in fact."

"Good. You can sit, Draco." He whispers the last part in my ear, and I immediately do as he says, Harry sitting beside me. "You okay?"

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Draco, you don't need to thank me for defending you. You're my sub; if I didn't I would barely be able to call myself a dominant. It's like thanking me for breathing. It's something I do because if I didn't I would die. Do you understand?"

"I think so. Still, thank you." He grins, ducking his head to brush his lips against where his mark will go.

"You're welcome."

"Hey!" I look up. Behind us stands a sixth or seventh year, robes red. Harry turns too, slower, almost bored.

"Yes?" He sighs. If his grip around me hadn't tightened, the illusion might have worked on me. I'm sure it did on the Gryffindor.

"He can't sit there. He's a Slytherin." He stands. He completely towers over the boy, and I see a flash of concern in his eyes. Good. He should be worried.

"I'm aware of the colour of his robes. And he's as entitled to sit here as I am." You sigh in happiness inside my head.

The Gryffindor looks shocked. "But- but this is the Gryffindor table. And, Harry... that's Draco Malfoy." He says my name in a whisper, like it's taboo. Like he might be revealing a horrible truth to Harry, breaking some kind of terrible news.

"I'm aware, Edwards. Both of where I am and who my mate is. Thank you for informing me." His nonchalant sarcasm is almost reminiscent of Snape. Merlin, if I told him that he might not ever speak to me again.

"Your mate? What does that mean?" I don't roll my eyes, absolutely not, because that would be rude.

"It means that he is mine, and I am his. He is the most important person in my life. I would do anything, kill anyone, risk everything for him." I swoon, and you do too, but the Gryffindor chuckles in disbelief. How he has the nerve to, I don't know. These bloody lions- too brave for their own good.

"Are we talking about the same person? Because I'm looking at Draco Malfoy, here. Have you forgotten what he has done?"

Harry's indifference immediately vanishes, as if someone turned the light off. A growl rumbles through his chest, and I feel it echoing into my own body. It's loud enough that conversation around us stops. The Gryffindor- Edwards, Harry called him- finally seems to grasp the situation.

"I am aware-" Harry says, and it sounds strained, like he's barely holding himself back. He keeps talking but I'm not listening, staring at him instead. I've never seen him like this.

He needs you Draco.

What? I'm right here.

No, I know that. He needs you to calm him. He's probably a second from ripping this boy's head off. Let him feel you, let him scent you. He needs it.

So I do. I stand up and place a hand, gingerly at first, on his shoulder. He barely notices. I can physically feel how taught his muscles are. You were right, Merlin.

I move my hand up to his neck, brushing a thumb over his scent gland. He notices this. He looks down at me, his eyes - so, impossibly green - searching mine, fury burning behind them.

"It's okay," I whisper, only for him to hear.

"No. It's not."

"Even so, now's not the time to fix it. Don't cause a scene, Harry, not here, not now."

"You wouldn't like that? It would make you unhappy?" I go to say that nothing he did could make me unhappy, but you stop me.

Say yes. It's the only thing that could stop him now. He's only acting on instinct. Fuck, he's been well trained. Even Blaise would already have exploded by now.

"Yes, 'Ry, it would make me unhappy." I see his eyes light up as soon as the nickname slips from my lips, and feel the growl in his chest replaced by an almost-purr. He ducks his head, pressing his nose against my scent gland and inhaling.

Good, he's distracted. Now, get the little lion away.

Over Harry's shoulder, I wave Edwards away, mouthing 'go, now'. He looks unsure, defiant, but scared. His fear eventually wins, and he scampers away. I breathe.

Good job, Draco! You sound incredibly happy, your voice swelling with pride. Why? Because what you just did is exactly what a submissive does. You're a perfect sub! With a blush, I realise you're right. Maybe not about being perfect, but still... I feel joy bubble up in my chest, inflating me like helium. Harry needed me, and I helped him. Me. And I did it well.

Maybe... maybe I am a good sub after all.

1724 words